STPTitle: Beastly Conduct
Contains pet play (dog), breeding
“How was your day?” Hands resting on your shoulders, feeling the tension.
“Rough.” You say, then repeat yourself, louder, in coarser tone, “ruff!”
Message received. I know exactly what you need.
Your eyes widen as I tug your shirt up & off of your curves. The rest of your clothes is just as handily dispensed with. When you’re completely naked, I fasten your collar on your throat. You’re blushing, just a little.
My fingers comb your hair back, gather it in a ponytail.
“Happy puppies wag their tails.” You grin excitedly, tilt your head back, give a little shake. “Good dog!”
I signal for you to be in Full Fours position. On the floor at my feet, resting on your forearms from elbow to hand, your shins from knee to foot, your tension is conspicuous. You shift your balance, raise & lower your hips.
You begin to relax the moment my palm touches your back, between your shoulders. I stroke it along your spine, as softly & slowly as I can. Then again, a little bit firmer, a little bit quicker.
The repetition, the attention, the silence, calm you. You make an inarticulate sound to be sure that I’m looking when you oscillate your head vigorously, wagging.
“Oh what a sweet & good puppy you are!” I gush, using my fingertips to make small marks in your flesh. “Let’s play Fetch!”
You turn to look at me, recognizing the handful of packaged condoms in my hand. You watch me toss one to land at the bottom of the steps.
“Fetch! Fetch it & bring it back.” You crawl rapidly to it, pince it between your fingers, turn to return. My scowl gives you pause.
“No! Bad! Bad dog.” Two strides & I’m shoving my thumb in to your mouth. “Puppies have paws. Not hands.”
I ignore the tears which spout, toss a different condom back where I’d stood. I don’t even need to issue the command. The moment it lands, you scamper towards it, dip your head to take the slick plastic in your teeth, then bring it to me, your head held high.
“Good dog! Such a clever dog!” I signal you to give & you release it in to the palm of my hand. You’re rewarded with more petting. Brisker, faster, bringing the color to your skin.
“Fetch,” again I toss the condom, under a table. You crawl to it, slightly slower, carefully slip your head between the table legs, bite the condom, bring it to me.
That’s more petting for you, both hands alternating. You let your head drop & shake your head slowly, deliberately, sensually.
“Fetch,” again. & again. On the other side of the table. Into a corner of the room. Between my feet. Up the stairs, challenging your skills at downstair crawling on the return.
“Return backwards,” I instruct, toss it again to the top. Your return is more comfortable & I reward you with gentle pats of your back, your butt, as well as verbal adoration.
I throw again, to open floor. When you retrieve it, I throw it the same place. Each success is firmer impacts for you. You’re breathing fast, almost panting. Sweat sheens your back, drips down your sides. You’re faster on every fetch. The tension has all but left your body, distracted by your focus on an achievable task.
The next throw lands on the back of the pew against the wall. My “Stop!” freezes you, arms up on the bench’s throw blanket.
Gripping you by collar & tail, I yank you briskly back to the floor.
“Furniture is a privilege reserved for people. Animals are not allowed. What distinguishes people from animals? Pets. Don’t. Wear. Clothes.” Each word punctuated by a punitive slap of your ass.
“Fetch. Properly.” I point at the condom perched beside me. You move back to get a better view, circle, look for a way to get behind the bench, imagining you could rear up on your hind legs & get it without being On the furniture but there’s no space for you.
I watch you have the epiphany that if your target is sitting on a blanket & that blanket moves, so will the target. You’re in a primal state where only simple solutions are needed.
Biting the blanket, you back away from the bench, growling when it snags & yipping when the condom is dislodged to fall to the floor.
My praise is effusive & sufficiently fulsome to have you wagging your head & your hips in joy. I can see no bit of today’s hardships in your body.
But one can’t be too careful. My hands stroke your sides, adjust your posture to accommodate my approach.
Your legs open wide of their own accord, the smallest trace of a whimper catching in your throat.
“Aren’t you just a breedable little bitch in heat,” spreading the cheeks & leaning in to closely inspect your arousal. You squirm but won’t pull away. Pushing back towards me relentlessly, eager to feel me in you.
“I have special plans for the day you’ll give me a litter of pups. But there’s no harm in practicing.” I take the time to open a condom & suit up, hearing your whimpers shift toward growls.
There’s no resistance to my insertion. Just the opposite; your hole squeezes & holds me on my withdrawal, opens cavernous before my penetration.
“If you’d bitten this condom harder. Earlier. While fetching. You might imagine. I’m about to fill you. Fill you & leak out of the condom. Filling you to leak out of you. Or maybe you did.”
I plumb the depths, verbally, as well as carnally. You have the presence of mind, barely, to not break character when you orgasm, smoothly shifting an involuntary “oh fuck” Into a sustained howl.
That takes me into my own release, pumping you brusquely, a beast being used to sate my needs.
I collapse on to you, seizing your forearms & tugging them aside, pinning you down, my mouth at your ear.
“Good dog,” I croon, inserting the fingers of one hand in your mouth. My other tugs the rubber pouch of my jizz from my cock & brings it to your mouth. I squeeze the condom empty, none too carefully. Most in your mouth but globs of spunk adorn your cheek, your chin.
“Such a pretty pup,” I whisper when you lift your head to wag your tail slowly, before dozing off in contented exhaustion.
The End.